


In The Focus I'll Be Dreaming

by geckoholic



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Masturbation, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Kate tries to keep herself entertained while waiting for Clint to return from a mission.





	In The Focus I'll Be Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleksrothis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/gifts).



> Okay, look, I swear I was going for proper porn here. Might still add that, actually. ;)
> 
> Beta-read by scribblemyname. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "All My Heroes" by Bleachers.

Evenings alone are boring. Not in general, of course, Kate isn't that desperate a case yet, reduced to pining boredom every time her boyfriend leaves for one of these unnecessarily long off-planet missions and doesn't come back for days on end. Just. The waiting is what kills her. He could walk through the door any minute now, or it could take another two or three days. She misses him enough, admittedly, that she wants to stay and keep an eye on aforementioned door, wants the ability to run up to him and jump into his arms and kiss him stupid. 

Okay, so maybe she's getting some kind of desperate here. He's been away for _five days_ , and quite frankly, she's gotten used to having him around. More so since they started dating. Three months now, and they're still in the sweet honeymoon phase where they go everywhere and do everything together and have sex twice a day. Except, you know. Off-planet Avengers missions. 

And that, right there, will be her excuse. Clint is ridiculously good at sex, which... it makes sense. Kate has met his exes. None of them would content themselves with a sub-par fuck for a boyfriend, and Bobbi even married the man. Having sampled the goods herself, Kate can see why Bobbi wanted put a ring on that straight away. 

He's got other qualities, of course. Kate isn't that shallow. They've been been friends for years before she ever got access to his dick. He's kind and cute and attentive and overprotective and thinks he's soooo funny; he's cocky sometimes and then again unsure and anxious. He's gentle and patient. He loves her and he isn't afraid to tell her, and, more importantly, show her that she's the most precious part of his life right now. It's great. _He's_ great, and she loves him back like whoa. 

She also needs to put a halt to that line of thought, because it doesn't help one bit with how much she misses him. She glances at Lucky, curled up in his basket, fast asleep after an afternoon at the dog park. She eyes the TV, but she already went through all the watchable movies in Clint's DVD collection and he doesn't have any subscriptions. She showered earlier and did a deep conditioner routine, then painted her nails, both hands and toes, and changed into her pajamas after she'd admitted to herself that she wouldn't go out again anyway. 

Kate sighs and wanders over to the bed, flopping onto her back. She stretches out and turns her head, closes her eyes, and sniffs. His scent has begun to fade from their bed, and the discovery makes something in the pit of her stomach seize painfully. Their job is dangerous. One day he might not come back at all and he'll fade from her life like he – 

Oh, no. She won't even go there. 

She waves her arms and legs, like she's trying to make a snow angel. His bed is a single, barely large enough for two people, but she usually doesn't notice since they're curled up together. She turns her head again to bury it in the pillow, and her left hand slides down to her hip. They had sex only hours before he left. He had laid her down, much like this, eaten her out, and fucked her deep and slow. The memory is fresh in her mind. Her hand wanders further, underneath the waistband of her pajama pants, her panties. He'd gotten her off both times – once with his mouth, once with his cock. She can still recall the content, sated exhaustion afterwards, the way her whole body had tingled with aftershocks. 

Fingers dipping between her folds, she moans, at the sensation as much as at the memory. She's wet already, needing, wanting. It won't be the same, but she can give herself temporary release, tide herself over until his return. With her other hand, she pushes up her top to uncover her breasts and brushes her thumb over a quickly hardening nipple. She rocks down on her own fingers, her back arched, her eyes closed, biting her lips. 

She hears keys jingle in the lock to the front door and freezes. Shame and embarrassment rush through her, but also a fair amount of excitement, her arousal pitched up further. She takes a deep breath and calls his name, just to be sure. “Clint? That's you, right?” 

The key clatters to the floor and she hears a grumbled curse. Kate chuckles to herself. Yep. It's definitely him. “Of course, Katie,” he shouts through the door. “As you may have noticed, I don't get many visitors.” 

That's a flat-out lie, his apartment is buzzing with them some days, but she's too distracted to call him on that and volley some banter back and forth. “Come on, then,” she says, making sure her voice sounds low and urgent. “Get in here, Clint.” 

Some more clattering, another curse, and then the door flies open. He stands in the open doorway for a few seconds, eyes going wide in slow-motion, but then a grin spreads on his face and he quickly throws the door shut behind him. He sheds bits of armor as he makes his way to the bed, then he drops his shirt, his belt. Kate almost calls a time-out right then, because he looks like he's been through the wringer, an already fading black eye around his right eye, scrapes and scratches on his neck and upper body, a large bruise that reaches from his shoulder to his pectoral, fresh and blooming red and purple. Clint seems to read her thoughts, however, because he waves a hand, dismissive, and keeps stripping as he goes. 

“Looks worse than it is,” he says while he peels down his pants. “Don't you worry.” 

A few more hobbling steps and he's left standing by the bed in nothing but socks and boxer briefs. The latter show a tell-tale bulge, and Kate sits up, pulls her own shirt over her head and lowers her bottoms and panties down to pool around her ankles. She spreads her legs. Propped up on her elbows, she raises an eyebrow.

“Welcome home,” she says, smirking.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
